


Make-or-Break

by Experiment413



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Battle for the Throne, BreilWings, Contest Entry, Fantribes, Gen, HabitatWings, History, Original Tribes (Wings of Fire), Pre-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Experiment413/pseuds/Experiment413
Summary: Tadpole takes Corvid to see Princess Drought and Queen Bog battle.Written for the HabitatWings story contest.
Relationships: Tadpole (OC) & Corvid (OC)
Kudos: 3





	Make-or-Break

“Come on, loser. We have to be quick.”

Tadpole made her way swiftly towards the arena, head low and eyes wide open. On her tail was Corvid, the out-of-place BreilWing covered in whatever clothes and fabrics Tadpole could find.

“Are you sure about this,” he murmured. “You said they would kill us, right?”

“If they don’t look too closely at us, we’ll be fine,” Tadpole whispered. “You said you wanted to see a piece of Habie culture. Today is perfect, because all signs point to  _ today _ being the day.”

“What?”

“Shut up. If they do spot us, they’ll likely mistake you for a jovine and me for a terrene or a hybrid.”

“Might want to hide your gills, dear,” Corvid mused. Tadpole smacked him in the snout with her tail.

The two were in the crawlspace of the royal arena now. Tadpole had taken this route many times to catch a glimpse of the drama going on in the crown family. It was a tight squeeze, and had her BreilWing companion been a build similar to the rest of his tribe, he wouldn’t be able to get in here.

As Tadpole passed various peepholes filtering light in, she counted silently. 1, 2, 3…

“Seven. Here.” She turned to a sharp left, vanishing into the darkness. Corvid stumbled some before following her in.

“I never took you as a criminal, dear,” Corvid hummed.

“You’d be surprised,” she responded. “You think your tribe is practically lawless? At least yours is  _ organized _ .”

The corridor Tadpole was leading them down was pitch black. Corvid’s eyes took some time to adjust to the light, but soon he found that the roof wasn’t quite that. It was the bottom of the stands. A little beam of light peeked through a long, straight gap in the boards at the end of the passageway. Here, Tadpole thumped to lay herself on the ground, peering through. Corvid’s curiosity was piqued and he did the same.

“Do you see her?” Tadpole asked.

“Who, that dragon in the middle?” Corvid squinted.

“Yeah. That’s Queen Bog.”

“Horrible name,” Corvid hissed.

“It can get worse, but that’s close to as bad as it gets.”

“Shame. Why’s she just… sitting there?”

“Just wait for her.”

“Who, the Queen, or--?”

There were dragons in the stands, not many, but enough. Aristocratic, more likely than not, Tadpole thought. A swoop of wings was heard, gasps rising from a few members of the audience. As if they hadn’t seen this day coming.

“And who’s that?” Corvid pointed a claw at the dragon landing in the arena pit.

“Princess Drought,” Tadpole said.

Corvid blinked, pulled his head back from the gap, and turned to squint at Tadpole.

“You took me to a fight for the crown?”

“What,” Tadpole responded, looking back at him. “What better way to learn our history than to watch it happen?”

Corvid was silent for a moment. “You’re clever,” he finally said, returning to peeking at the scene. “I like that.”

“This is make-or-break,” Tadpole explained as the fight began. “Drought’s mother was adamant about marines not being all they were accused of being, before she died.”

“Drought though is… a terrene, isn’t she?” Corvid squinted harder to try and watch the blur that was Princess Drought.

“She is, and I do worry that since she was raised by Bog that she shares the same sentiments against us.” Tadpole’s windy breeze shifted in her uncomfortable state, Corvid having to readjust to not get his fins blown into his face.

“That’ll do it.”

Time passed, blood was spilled, Tadpole deadly silent in watching it all unfold. Corvid would respect that. He wasn’t awfully invested, but when Bog sat down, beaten to all hell, and spread her wings, he perked up.

“Wait,” he said. “Why is she… just sitting there?”

Tadpole tapped her claws in the dirt. “I think…”

She watched as Bog muttered to herself, a smile creeping onto the queen’s face as Drought struck the final blow. The former queen went limp and slumped over.

“... I think she made peace with herself.”

Tadpole abruptly stood. Corvid glanced over to her.

“We’re leaving,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“What, we’re not going to stay for the afterparty,” Corvid tried to joke.

Tadpole huffed and flicked her tail. Corvid went silent.

“We’re leaving before the crowd filters in,” she repeated, clambering through the crawlspace again. “Let’s take you home.”

Corvid had to think about it. He’d never really seen Tadpole be so serious.

But like she said, it was make-or-break, wasn’t it?


End file.
